The Sorcerer's Apprentice
Her master, the wizard old, has gone for the night So at last the girl can test the powers of her might On the wand laid to rest she lays her hands So that the spirits’ sparkles do as she them commands The girl speaks her magic, and so the wand’s orb glows The girl smiles contently as to the tomb a sparkle flows There lay the dead, once well at rest But now they’ll become part of this test As the spirits’ sparkles sprinkle in the wizard’s old mill A deafening noise delivers a chill For as the spirit’s sparkles found their way To the bodies deceased, ‘tis with dismay That they possess them; the dead live again Their flesh long gone, yet their clothes still bloodstain’ With power and might they’ve opened the tomb Releasing both noise and a sickening fume Frightened at first, but dissolved soon her fear For when they bow deeply, ‘tis the girl clear That she has succeeded, that they’ll do her will That they’ll do the task, in her master’s old mill She had begun, the work she did indeed start But had found the task for herself too hard. “Slowly the wheels grind Slowly the stream flows And now I find That my power grows The bones must be crushed To magic dust And these servants dead Will do so, they must.” As many a hand make heavy work light The dead are ordered to turn tonight The old mill’s wheel, so that it to dust The bones it grinds so that they are crushed The dust they collect and bring to the dray Standing outside near the ghost town’s quay Then they pull the cart to the black tower Stapling the sacks as they would flour By the time the clock clings the witching hour The girl finds that she has no longer the power To stay awake, so she falls asleep Pleased with herself as her slaves loathingly creep Dreaming of great power, she’s pulling the strings Of lands here and yonder, of peasants and kings Of all of Frigdborgh, of the Oversea Lands Of the Northern Realm, too, and as her hands Reach out for the heavens, she rises high Down from Helheim and Nether up into the sky To the realm of the sky gods, oh, see the sun gold All bow before her, and her master old Stands by her side, a servant, too, As she stand at the Old Tree in ever-morning dew “The mill’s wheels still grind The stream continues to flow And I’m so pleased to find That my power will grow The seven worlds I shall rule, Mine is every throne. I see my fortune's spun By the Fates whose favour I’ve won And I am quite certain This won’t be undone.” But as the girl sleeps, the wheels run berserk For too quickly an end has come to the work Her slaves have increased their output, and as they crept They turned the stock empty, thus nothing could’ve kept The cogwheels from squeaking—they’re so wildly turning That the stream’s water, too, turns to mad churning So ‘tis with nothing they fill full to the brim So ‘tis with nothing that they pull with dead limb The dray to the tower, humming their ghostly hymn And then back again, back to the mill While the sound of the wheel turns oh so shrill And the spirit's sparkles turn oh so chill The spirits unhappy complete the scene As they angrily wake the girl from her dream With deep shrieks and bright lights seeking her attention With blazing fury they point at her pretension “Quickly the mill’s wheels grind Quickly the river’s stream flows And now that I find That my power grows They’ve crushed all the bones To magic dust Now I must stop them, Stop them I must!” The orb glows still; sparkles are still sparkling Yet fear now becomes this little darkling As she hastens to find the proper spell To stop them from doing their job done so well Yet now she fails, she cannot find The spell to change her minion’s minds So to the axe she turns instead And fiercely she cuts off their lifeless heads Therewith the threesome finally at rest The girl understands she failed her own test Now that she’s learned well from her mischief She nevertheless feels some relief That all played out well, that despite her failing Her presence of mind allowed her prevailing. “Slowly again the wheels grind Restful once more the stream flows And now I find That despite that my power grows I have much to learn still Before I can turn to my will The living and dead, so I shall hide My old master’s wand, I’ll put it aside.” And so the girl once more turns to sleep And once more starts to dream so very deep But in the darkness dead eyes now lurk As the dead bodies return to their work Once more they return to turn the wheel Once more they return to their ordeal But since they have nothing to fill full to the brim, Since the dray can only be empty, their ghostly hymn Turns once more the sound of the wheel oh so shrill Thus again are the cogwheels squeaking As thus again are the dead their way seeking Up into the tower and back down to the mill Willing once more to do the girl’s will But no bones turn to dust, and as sparkles spread The girl wakes up, and sees working the dead “Why does the wheel grind? Why does the stream flow? Why do I find That on the dead go? Oh, Master, help me, For I do not see how I must end this, but this must end now!” Now the girl tries to stop quickly her fiends Again with the axe their work she intervenes But this to no avail, and instead the dead Take hold of her strongly by the hair on her head As the girl screams, and tries to fight For her freedom she finds that her plight Will soon come to an end, as the dead throw Her into the shaft and push her down below Now the mill grinds no longer dead bones But instead the girl, who screams and groans First come the feet, and see!—there go the legs! Then the torso is crushed, and as the girl begs For mercy, which the dead clearly not know They take now her head, and slowly they go Into the tomb, from whence they came For now they and the girl are all the same Her body gone, the girl still draws breath As the dead carry her head into the depth The night has now finally come to a close As have the spirits, the river town’s ghosts And when the old wizard returns to his home He finds that he is now quite alone And soon understands what has become Of his young student and the wrong she has done. “No longer grinds my dear old mill The river’s stream has come to a still Now that I find My student’s dream To ashes turned To dust it has burned Now I must find, and quickly so A new apprentice—but where to go?” First the old wizard retrieves the head From the sturdy clutches of apprentices dead “Oh, my poor apprentice,” the wizard laments I regret to say that the events From which you dreamt were not yours to be But are your successor’s, ‘tis his destiny For I’ve come to see that your undoing Would be rooted in your prideful pursuing Of power for what you’re not quite prepared yet And see, you’re gone, but still not quite dead This is your punishment, your head will serve As a reminder for those with the nerve You’ve shown tonight, a reminder for all That pride comes before certain fall. On my desk you’ll remain, for evermore, Now I must go, through the mirror’s door A new apprentice I must seek to find So that once more the mill’s wheels can grind.” And so the old wizard takes up his wand And sets off once more to the upper land There Ab’aham in Frigdborgh he finds A child young still, and in disguise He lures him away, from his father’s keep And brings him to his home, where the spirits weep. Category:Poetry Category:Ghosts Category:Dismemberment